


Bowties and Lace

by LittleSpacePrince



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Hannibal, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hannibal isn't creepy for once, It's all domestic and gross and shit, It's fluffy as shit, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Maybe a little OOC, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Smut, Top Will, Virgin Hannibal Lecter, anyways enjoy this shit, waiting til marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 12:25:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11759835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSpacePrince/pseuds/LittleSpacePrince
Summary: “Devil dressed in white. So light in one area, so dark in others. Like yin and yang.” Will murmured.“Perhaps even Lucifer preserved a few of his angelic tendencies.” Hannibal mused.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based off [this](http://crossroadscastiel.tumblr.com/post/155190580342/a-fic-i-will-probably-never-write-because-i-have)

Hannibal had always been taught that it was love, marriage, and then sex. From the time that he was a young boy, he’d been raised to believe in waiting until marriage for any sort of consummation, and that was exactly what he did. He waited. 

Of course, lust of the flesh was hardly the deadliest sin, and perhaps his priorities were a bit misplaced, given what he did in his freetime. Given his tastes, given his diet. But still, he had managed to preserve his virginity for forty-six years. It had been difficult, especially in his teenage years, with raging teenage hormones telling him to fuck everything in sight, but he had managed to control himself. He had been able to suppress urges by channeling his passions and feelings into other things. Anatomy, culinary arts, music… They took his mind off of it, and would take his mind off of it until he found the right person.

And he had. He’d found the man that he was destined to be with; a man by the name of Will Graham. A man that currently had him pinned to the couch, straddling his legs, hands threaded through the older man’s hair, kissing him with all the passion that he seemed to have ingrained in him. 

Hannibal reached up, running his fingers through his dark curls and pulling tightly, tugging him down tightly against him. This had become something of a nightly routine, the two of them ending up on the couch, Will over top of him, claiming his mouth, holding him tight. He tugged hard on those dark curls that he had grown so fond of, running his fingers tightly through them as he pulled Will down closer to him, bodies pressed tightly against each other, so close that it became difficult to determine where one ended and the other began. This was how it was meant to be, the two of them. 

It had been two months since their fall, since their becoming, since they’d consummated all that they were. Their relationship, their love, whatever you wanted to call it, had been consummated in all ways except for one, in the most primal and base meaning of the word. There had been no sex, no love-making; Will didn’t even know his secret. Will had no idea what Hannibal was, and what he wasn’t. The one secret that they still held between them.

Hannibal pulled him down closer, still, savoring the way that the hardness in Will’s pants felt pressed against him, and the nearly-satisfying-yet-oh-so-unsatisfying feeling of his own erection pressed up against Will’s body. The older man had never so much as touched himself, had never explored, had wanted to wait for the right person to come along and introduce him to all of these sensations one day. He supposed that was why it was so difficult to keep from squirming and whining against Will’s grinding hips.

Hannibal pulled away slightly, just to catch his breath, regain something like composure as he struggled against his straining erection. He wasn’t in control of his body’s biological responses to stimulation and arousal, but he wished like hell that he was, that he could control himself against his urges. He wanted to wait, wait until Will asked for his hand in marriage, wait until they had made everything… Official. Real. He wanted to wait until he knew that Will wasn’t going to walk away from him.

That had always been the plan. To wait until he found the person that he was perhaps destined to be with, to wait until he was sure that they weren’t going to walk away from him. He had always cherished his body, and hadn’t wanted to give his virginity away to someone who didn’t matter, who wasn’t going to stand by his side until death do they part.

He supposed he hadn’t expected it to take this long, but…

Hannibal inhaled slowly before turning up toward Will and claiming his lips again. Kissing was good, kissing was okay. Kissing was what kept him from going mad. He wanted Will, body, mind, and soul, wanted to feel every part of Will Graham’s body pressed against him, wanted to feel him moving side of him, wanted to have him in the most intimate ways, but he refrained. He would not give up nearly fifty years of self-control, not even for Will. He had stuck it out this long, and he could wait a little longer.

Will, however, could not. 

He had wanted this for years, no matter how hard he had tried to deny it, deny the attraction and love and lust and fiery feelings that he had always felt for Hannibal. Now, he had him, the older man belonging to him and him alone. Hannibal was his to have and to hold, to keep with him, no longer burdened by old afflictions and fights. The teacup came together again at last, one last time, still a little chipped and scratched, but still good. What they had going for them, what they had together… It was still good. 

It had taken years. Years of lies and betrayals, years of conflicting feelings, years of hatred and years of fiery burning passions, years of the two of them unable to accept the vulnerability that came from one another. But all of that had shattered and created some more perfect union on the edge of that bluff. They had finally built something of a life for themselves, having disappeared off of the face of the earth together and having traded their old lives for something so much better. 

There weren’t words for what they had, but perhaps they didn’t need words. Labels were unneeded between them, he figured. Boyfriends didn’t work, lovers wasn’t even accurate given that they hadn’t even had sex yet… Murder husbands, Freddie’s stupid old nickname, seemed to fit, and Will had learned to tease it, to like it, even. But names for what they had… There didn’t exactly seem to be any. And Will wasn’t sure that they needed any. 

“God, I love you.” Will breathed, voice husky as he pulled away for just a moment, claiming his lips again a second later, fingers trailing down between them. His fingers teased at the first button of Hannibal’s wrinkled white button-down, disheveled by Will’s grasping fingers, using his shirt to hold him close, pull him closer, closer. He wanted to get closer, wanted to get so close that they were skin on skin, so intertwined and so conjoined that they could no longer tell where one of them ended and the other began. 

He wanted sex.

He hadn’t brought it up, had hoped that it would come about on its own. Besides, it wasn’t all that important to him, not so important that he would try to push anything, just some lingering thought in the back of his mind. But he wanted it, oh god he wanted it, wanted to finally bring it all together as some final act of consummation. 

Hannibal leaned into his touch as the younger man began to undo the buttons on his shirt. He convinced himself that it was okay, that he would put a stop to it before it got too far, but it felt good, having the brush of Will’s fingers against his skin. The very tickle of Will’s skin against his own was enough to make him squirm, make his cock harden even further between his legs. He could feel the wet patch staining the front of his slacks, and his skin flushed pink as he grew hotter to the touch. 

“I want you. Please.” Will murmured, begging. Oh, he wanted, needed to be sheathed deep inside of Hannibal Lecter’s body. He wanted to hear him moan beneath him, fuck him until he was screaming, until they were both crying out in the throes of their pleasure, clinging to each other as they did so. 

“You have me. I’m right here.” Hannibal whispered, breath hot against Will’s face as he kissed him again, nearly able to taste the desperation on his lips, in his breath, on his tongue. Hannibal pulled him close, feeling the tension tighten in Will’s hands as the younger man grew more and more needy, anxious, wanting the doctor, and all of him, his fingers working frantically at the buttons of his shirt. Hannibal’s breath hitch, promising himself that he would put an end to it soon, but not yet, not so soon, not so fast. Not yet, not yet.

“All of you. I want every inch of you. Want to be inside of you, or you inside of me, I don't care, it doesn't matter, I just… I want you.” Will whispered, rolling his hips against Hannibal’s body, making his erection painfully evident as he pressed himself against Hannibal’s belly. 

Hannibal’s breath shook Will claimed his mouth again, unbuttoning the last buttons of his shirt and beginning to tease at the top button of his trousers, fingers grazing over the outline of his erection. Hannibal’s fingers squeezed tightly into Will’s sides, leaving pink raised crescent moons against his pale flesh through his clothes, struggling to hold himself together, trying to cling to his self-control. He had made himself a promise years ago, and he wasn’t about to surrender it all on a whim. 

He finally pulled back slowly, breaking the kiss, deescalating the situation, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to say no if it went any further. He would lose himself, get too caught up in the moment, and he couldn’t let himself just throw it all away. He had promised himself as a child that he would wait until marriage, and wait until marriage he would.

“I can’t.” Hannibal breathed, eyes clenched shut, gritting his teeth as he tried to force away his own arousal, tried to control himself. He knew well enough that sex was as natural as eating or breathing, in human nature, but he was more than that. He was a man of self-control and self-discipline, holding back his impulses. He couldn’t just throw it away, couldn’t just give in, not like this, not like this, not here, not now…

Will felt something sink in his chest as he settled on Hannibal’s lap. He was still painfully hard, and so was Hannibal, but he settled, hoping to talk it out. He wasn’t sure why not. They had been doing this, kissing, holding, grinding, getting oh-so-close for months now. It only felt natural that sex would come next, and now Hannibal was pulling back. Will felt a pang of disappointment in his chest, but he tried not to let it show.

“How come?” Will inquired, running his hand through Han’s silvery hair, trying to straighten it back out rather than leaving it as rough as it was, disheveled from Will’s fingers to begin with.

The one thing that he had never told Will, finally ready to come to light, as embarrassing as it was. It should have held no shame, it being something that he had chosen for himself, and yet it still carried weight, still carried a certain amount of shame with it. Something taboo, something wrong, like this was something that he should have experienced by now. Hannibal felt his cheeks flush hot, eyes downcast as he chewed slightly on his lips before finally meeting Will’s eyes. 

“I’m saving myself until marriage.” Hannibal confessed quietly. “I'm a virgin.”

Will moved back, giving him a look of disbelief. There was no way in hell that Hannibal Lecter was a virgin. No, the man was all about giving into instincts and doing what felt good and what felt right to him. He killed people, for fuck’s sake, he wasn’t going to think that god would smite him for fucking before marriage, of all things. 

“You’re shitting me.” Will said flatly.

“I’m not.” He breathed. He knew that it was something difficult to believe. There were so few men who would save themselves for as long as Hannibal had, wait for that long, and to most others, it would be something hard to fathom, a man going for so long without the touch of another person in ways most intimate. “I’m a virgin.” 

Will stared. This had to be some sort of joke. Hannibal was beautiful - maybe it wasn’t evident at first, not always, but once you got to know him, came to notice all of the little details, like the way that his hands tightened around a knife or the way that he moved as gracefully as a dancer when he was in his kitchen or the way that his lips turned up at the corners when he was happy or the way that… There was no way that someone hadn’t snatched him up at least once, made love to him, or let him make love to them… There was no way in hell that the man beneath him was a virgin. 

“What… Why?” Will sputtered out, that being all that he could manage. 

“I… Suppose it’s just what I was always taught. That you wait until marriage. I don’t know why that lesson in morality stuck, but it did. And that’s what I’ve done. I have never had sex. And I don’t plan on breaking that streak. Forty-six years of self-control, of saving myself, and I do not plan on giving in now. Not even for you, my dear boy.” He explained with a small, weak smile. It was awkward. This conversation tended to be. He’d had it before, explained it before, but explaining it to Will, explaining it to the only man that he had ever been able to envision himself marrying, explaining what compelled him to preserve his virginity… 

He wanted it, he did. Hannibal would have done anything to make love to his darling Will, to be conjoined with him in the most primal of ways, to feel every inch of him pressed against his body… But he refused himself. The man never known to deny himself of anything, any of life’s simple pleasures, refusing himself of his most basic animal instincts, alongside eating and breathing. He held back, no matter how badly he wanted to feel Will against him, inside of him, doing things to his body that had never been done before, exploring places previously left untouched, places that had been preserved just for him…

“Marriage?” Will gulped. Marriage. He’d never thought that would be on the table, never imagined the two of them needing some fancy ceremony, always figuring that their consummation on the edge of the bluff would be enough of an unholy matrimony for the two of them. But evidently not. Evidently, Hannibal wanted something more. He wanted an actual wedding. An actual marriage rather than just contracts written in blood and moonlight. Something more than just their love holding them together, something more tangible, something more permanent. 

Will supposed that he could understand the appeal. The seeming permanence of it. The idea of til-death-do-us-part. The rings, the last names, the completion. Neither one of them believed in god, or heaven, or hell, but the idea of having this perfect, holy matrimony together… It wasn’t likely that they’d have some happy ending, some cookie cutter life, especially not any time soon, but…

“Marriage.” Hannibal confirmed. 

Will let out a quiet sigh. There were some leaps and bounds that he wasn’t quite ready to take yet. Just because life was perfect and they had fallen into some routine for now didn’t mean that it was going to last forever. Part of him feared that the floodgates would erupt and everything would come crashing down around them, and he didn’t want to get too attached when it happened, didn’t want to know that Hannibal Lecter was his husband, was something so real and so official and so permanent, when it happened. 

“Why?” Will sighed. “You’re fucking… You’re a fucking cannibal, Han, you don’t give all that much of a shit about what’s moral and what’s immoral. I’m pretty fucking sure that murder is a little worse than premarital sex in the eyes of god.” 

Hannibal chuckled, pressing his head against Will’s chest for a moment, savoring the rise and fall of his chest as he clung to him, not ready to let go of him just yet. Or ever. “It is not a religious or moral question, Will. I don’t do it because I have anything against sex, or premarital sex, or anyone who partakes in such activities. It’s a matter of my own self control. I promised myself as a boy that I would wait. Seeing what sex did to my peers, how they went crazy about it, about girls, about… I wanted to wait until I was married. And now… It’s not a vow I’m quite willing to break. Not even for you, my dear boy.” 

Will shook his head slowly, letting out a small, breathy chuckle. He couldn’t help himself. Perhaps this was not working out in his favor, or exactly according to plan, but the ridiculousness of it all made it all just a bit amusing, at least. 

“We can still kiss, though?” Will inquired, looking up with hopeful eyes. He had half a dozen questions and a million fears running through his head, fearing that he would die without ever knowing the feeling of being totally and fully conjoined with the man that had become like the other half of his soul, fearing that they would fall apart and Will would never truly be able to have him, fearing that he would never be good enough for that man, fearing that this would never be able to last… But he shoved it all down for the sake of a kiss.

“Yes. Kissing is… Perfectly acceptable.” Hannibal replied with a small smile. And for then, at least for the time being, Hannibal was content with just kissing, and so, it seemed, was Will. Lips colliding, hearts beating in sync, fingers running through dark curls and silver strands, tongues playing at each other’s lips… It was nearly as intimate as sex itself, and Hannibal was perfectly content with just that.

Will gave a small smile back and leaned down, claiming his lips again. He loved the way that his breath tasted on his tongue, the way that Hannibal moved beneath him, the way that the older man held him tightly against his chest… Will smiled softly against his lips, content. 

He pulled away with a small smile, the younger man pressing his forehead against the older’s with a cheeky grin playing over his lips, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Then we kiss.”

 

~~~~

 

Will could hardly hear the computer over the sounds of his own pants and muffled moans, struggling to keep himself quiet. He hadn’t done this since their fall, hadn’t felt the urge to do anything unless it was with Hannibal, and that seemed to be out of the question for the time being. So when the urge inevitably arose and he wanted sex, he slipped into the bedroom and handled himself while Hannibal was out, off to pick up something for dinner. 

Some girl was riding this guy’s cock fast and hard, though Will was hardly even paying attention, too lost in his own fantasies to give a shit about either of them. They were hot, sure; a pretty blonde with big tits, though not so big that it was obvious that she’d had some work done, and a guy that looked a little like Ashton Kutcher. But Will was overall uninterested in them, just putting it on out of habit as he stroked himself quickly, pretending that it was Hannibal’s body wrapped around him instead of his fist.

He could picture it perfectly in his mind’s eye, years of fantasizing leading to these crystal clear pictures in his head. Hannibal coming over and straddling his legs on a lazy afternoon before proceeding to ride his cock, taking his pleasure how he saw fit, head thrown back as he moaned and squirmed. He could imagine the weight of the older man on his lap, the feeling of his breath hot against his neck as he buried his face there as he bounced, the white hot intensity of it all… 

Will’s mind wandered to what it might feel like to have his lips wrapped around his length. Kissing them was one thing, but having them take in his cock, providing him pleasure that way, beneath him and submitting for the first time in his life, that was a completely separate thing. The idea of threading his fingers through Hannibal’s silvery strands, head bobbing as he took him in as far as he could go, the head of Will’s cock nudging the back of his throat with each thrust… 

The very idea of it had his mind racing and his head spinning as he stroked faster. He was normally fairly quiet whenever he touched himself, but the fantasies, mingling with the lingering scent of him in their bedroom, had him moaning and crying out through the quiet halls of their cabin.

He supposed that he wouldn’t get any of it any time soon, not if Hannibal was so set on waiting until marriage. Will supposed that he could always just marry the man, given that there was no one else that they could belong to anyways. They _were_ essentially soulmates, a match made in hell, but he was hesitant. Years and years of hurt and abuse and mutual destruction didn’t go away overnight, and Will wondered if he would ever be able to trust the man that he loved so much enough to put a ring on his finger.

He was still weighing his options. Until then, he supposed his fantasies and his right hand would suffice as a partner. Never as good as Hannibal would be, but close enough.

He could feel his balls drawing tight to his body already. He hadn’t done this in months now, hadn’t felt the urge or seen the point until today. There was no way that he was going to last nearly as long as he normally did. He was going to fall apart to fantasies of the man that he loved but couldn’t have, and that was okay. 

He heard the door open and shut from the other room, and first instinct was to pull his pants on, pretend that nothing had happened, but Hannibal would smell it on him, no doubt. There was no point in stopping. Besides, there was a sliver of him that hoped that Hannibal would come join him. Perhaps they couldn’t have actual sex, but jerking it didn’t exactly count, right? There were still plenty of things that they could do that weren’t actually sex. 

The very idea of it, the thought of Hannibal walking in on him, the thought of the older man dropping his pants and climbing over his lap, the idea of Hannibal pressing his long, uncut length against Will’s and rubbing, his skilled hands touching and stroking and massaging and squeezing in all of the right places until they were both coming hard over themselves, leaving them both sticky and dirty and hazy and content… Will stroked himself harder, faster, at the very idea of it. 

Hannibal sat down the bags on the kitchen counter, noticing the smell of sex the moment he walked in, even through the closed bedroom door. He could hear Will’s quiet pants and moans from the other side of the door, hear the sound of skin slapping against skin… He felt his head growing a bit fuzzy, hearing the sound of exaggerated moans coming through computer speakers. Will was masturbating in the next room, and Hannibal could hardly breathe at the very idea of it. 

Hannibal could feel his own erection forming between his legs as he inched closer toward the door. He could imagine what it must look like, his cock thicker and harder and aching between his thighs. He knew that he shouldn’t, knew that he should have just walked away and waited for him to finish. But he was curious, even if he knew that he couldn’t act on it. He didn’t exactly know what he was planning on doing, but as the front of his slacks began to fill out, he reached toward the doorknob and turned it slowly, pulling it open. 

Will’s blue eyes darted up toward Hannibal, stroking himself faster as his almost-lover slipped into the room, feeling a jolt of arousal at the very sight of him. He smirked as Hannibal’s eyes scanned over him, watching him in mesmerized awe. Will could see the outline of his hardened cock tented in his pants, twitching and throbbing as he grew more and more aroused at the very sight of him. Will smiled to himself as he gripped himself tighter, his cock twitching as he moaned, head thrown back. 

“Hello, Will.” Hannibal whispered. 

“Hello, Dr. Lecter.” Will breathed before letting out a small moan, feeling his balls beginning to draw tight to his body. Oh, how he hoped that Hannibal would come closer, touch him, feel him for the first time, the two skin on skin, nothing in between, nothing obstructing them, completely and utterly raw to one another… He looked up at the doctor with big, hopeful eyes before letting out a quiet moan that he didn’t even bother to try to restrain. He wanted that man as desperate and horny as possible. Wanted to wear him down. Wanted to make him want it. “Care to join me?” 

Hannibal was tempted to say yes. His cock ached, and he wanted nothing more than to drown in the pleasure and the release, to hold tight to Will and feel relief flood over him as his mind short-circuited with his orgasm… But he clenched his jaw and forced his eyes away. There were some things that were not to be given up for anyone, rules that are not meant to be broken or bent, commitments determined to be kept. And Hannibal had promised himself a long time ago that he was not going to feel pleasure like that until he was married. 

“I don’t masturbate.” Hannibal confessed, biting down hard on his lip. It was truth, every word, no matter how strange it may have sounded to the outside world. When he committed to something, Hannibal Lecter half-assed nothing. His husband was going to be the first to ever touch him, the first to give him an orgasm, the first to make love to him. His first. Period. “I never have. I have no issue with you doing so, none at all, but I promised myself years ago that... I just… Call me old fashioned.” 

Will stared up at the man in wide eyed shock. Suddenly, his boner was no longer so urgent as he let himself go and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the man in disbelief. It had been enough of a shock to learn that he was a virgin, but the fact that he didn’t even beat off… Will Graham, who had been beating off since he was fourteen, who’d lost his virginity at seventeen, who had fucked plenty of girls in his lifetime, with the forty-six-year-old virgin. Will stared up at him in shock and disbelief and in an utter state of _‘what the fuck.’_

“You don’t even…” He began, trailing off. How could he really be surprised, though? At this point, with Hannibal fucking Lecter, the serial killer and forty-six-year-old virgin, how the hell could he be surprised at anything that came out of his mouth? “Christ. I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I just thought… Since you don’t want to have sex, maybe this could be a loophole, I just… I’m sorry.” He muttered.

Hannibal gave him a sympathetic look, knowing that this was difficult for him. Difficult for both of them, really. The doctor watched as Will’s erection began to go down, pressing a hand against his forehead. The older man immediately felt guilty, knowing that Will wanted something physical between them, knowing that he wanted to consummate what they had, and knowing that Hannibal was too stubborn to let it happen. He knew that Will would get used to it, that they would find ways to work around it and grow accustomed to it, but until then, it was frustrating to say the least. 

“I’m embarrassed now.” Will chuckled, reaching over and grabbing Hannibal’s blue silk robe, pulling it around him. He wasn’t horny anymore, just a little… Disappointed. He knew that it had been a long shot, but he had hoped for some touch, to feel Hannibal’s body against him. He wanted to feel Hannibal wrapped tight around him, to be conjoined with him, but he couldn’t have that yet, and it was driving him fucking crazy. He knew that he should have been more respectful of his wishes, that he should have sucked it up and gotten over it, but goddamn if he didn’t want him, mind, soul, and body. 

Hannibal stepped toward him, kneeling next to his chair as he reached over and shut the laptop, pulling Will’s blue eyes to his, pressing a small kiss against his knuckles. He hadn’t meant for this to hurt, hadn’t wanted for this to be so hard, but it was. After so many years of unresolved sexual tension, Hannibal forcing him to wait, forcing him to stay back, it seemed a little unfair and Hannibal knew it. But Hannibal Lecter was a stubborn man, and he wasn’t going to give up his virginity until there was a ring on his finger.

“I’m sorry.” Hannibal murmured.

“Nah, don’t be. I knew that it was a long shot to start with. I just… I thought that might be our loophole.” Will sighed, running his thumb over the back of Hannibal’s hand. 

“I know. It’s unfair of me to ask this of you. Ask you to wait. This is… important to me.” Hannibal whispered. 

“It’s okay, I understand.” Will assured, leaning down and stealing a small kiss. The taste of his lips reminded him why he stayed, why he waited for this, like this. Will had waited for years for this, and he would wait a million years more. The taste of his breath, the brush of his lips, it reminded him exactly why he was waiting, and why he would never, not in a million years, ever be able to let go of him. Hannibal belonged to him, and he belonged to Hannibal, and that was the way it always had been, and the way that it always would be.

“So…” Will breathed. “You don’t even masturbate?” 

“I don’t. I never have.”

“Never? Not even when you were a horny sixteen year old?” 

“Not even when I was a horny sixteen year old.” Hannibal chuckled. 

“Jesus Christ… Guess that explains a lot. I feel like your body count would be much lower if you weren't so sexually repressed.” Will teased, pressing a kiss against his nose. It was hard to believe that somebody so filthy, somebody who had done so many terrible and dreadful things, could be so seemingly innocent all at the same time. But in the way that Hannibal was looking up at him with his eyes, big and wide and full of love and adoration, Will could almost believe it. 

“I’m not sure how much of that contributed to my inclinations toward murder, Will.” Hannibal chuckled before letting out a small sigh. “This was always my own choice. The idea of the person I marry, the idea of _you,_ being the first one to provide any sort of sexual pleasure to me, the idea of being taken for the first time by someone who I love more than anyone else in the world, the idea of being touched for the first time on my wedding night…” Hannibal mused, repeating the same thing that he had been telling himself for years, letting it linger in the air for the first time. “I'm of the belief that sex, for me, is like wine. The longer you wait, the better it is. I want to wait for it, Will.” 

Will stared up at the older man with big eyes, fingers brushing over his knuckles before giving him a small nod, bringing his knuckles to his lips slowly, softly. If Hannibal wanted to wait, then Will would wait, and he knew that Hannibal Lecter would be worth every single second. 

 

~~~~

 

Hannibal Lecter danced around the kitchen whenever he thought that nobody was looking. Whenever he cooked, he always put on music on the record player - Vivaldi, Will thought, though he was never really sure, unable to really differentiate between the classical composers. It was light, airy, like sunlight and springtime and all that happy shit. Will would be peering through the crack in the door, watching him in the kitchen whenever Hannibal was convinced that he was in their bedroom, taking a nap or reading a book. He would dance like a fucking ballet dancer as he cooked, humming along to the melody. Will loved those moments, watching him so free of all social constraints that he put on himself, watching him just be free to do what he pleased. 

Hannibal Lecter also had this terrible sweet tooth for ice cream. Whenever he went out for food, he always came back with at least three gallons, and they were usually out within a few days. Will had never been able to wrap his mind around why. Hannibal, who cooked and ate like a fucking king, who bested even the most world-renowned chefs, was obsessed with store-bought chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. Hannibal had explained before that he would never in a thousand years be such a food snob that he would turn down a meal, having known what it was like to go hungry, but he was always one to take the more elegant, decadent things in life over the mundane, always preferring the most refined meals. But of all the things, he liked cheap Wal-Mart ice cream. 

Hannibal Lecter didn’t know how to shoot a gun. He had never learned. Ironic, how the man that had killed more people than Will had even met in a lifetime didn’t even know how to shoot a damn gun. This left the task of hunting for food to Will. Not that he minded, really. He liked being able to take care of the man for once, Hannibal being more independent than anyone that Will had ever met, never asking for help from anyone until now. Will liked the fact that he could be a little more of a provider now, with him.

Hannibal Lecter was extremely ticklish, and Will loved it, making him laugh and squirm and scrunch up tight at the very brush of his fingers. He had the most beautiful laugh that Will had ever heard in his life, too, especially when Will had been tickling him for awhile and he was begging for mercy, laughing so hard that it came out a little too loud and a little obnoxious. Sometimes he even snorted when he laughed, which just led to more hysterical laughter from both of them. 

Hannibal Lecter was not as fucking pretentious as he led you on to believe. He led everyone to believe that he was this perfect gentleman all the time, always classy, always refined. But he liked normal shit sometimes too, with the right push. They watched sports together, and as much as he would hate to admit it, Will had gotten Hannibal into his old New Orleans Saints jersey a couple of times. He liked just about anything horror, obsessing over old horror movies like _‘Psycho’_ and _‘The Shining’,_ and new horror TV shows, like _‘American Horror Story’_ and _‘Bates Motel.’_ Hannibal liked Disney movies, too, specifically _‘Beauty and the Beast,’_ which seemed to say a lot. He liked superheroes, too, had grown up reading Marvel comics, with a particular liking for Doctor Strange. 

Hannibal Lecter pretended not to like dogs, always pretended like he didn’t want them, like he was too sophisticated to get in the floor and rough house with the strays that Will occasionally brought home. But of the three that Hannibal had let him keep, Will had caught him playing with them when he thought that he wasn’t paying attention. It started as Hannibal’s stray fingers wandering and running through their Cocker Spaniel’s curls while he read. Then it was him sneaking home the occasional toy from the store for them. Then he started taking them on walks before Will woke up. Will quickly realized that he really did like dogs, and a lot at that, though he’d never admit it. 

Hannibal Lecter was a vampire. He hardly slept, usually just laying next to Will, watching quietly until he fell asleep before slipping into their library, thumbing through old books until late into the night. It was usually four or five before he snuck into bed, rousing Will slightly before he drifted off into a more contented sleep with the older man’s arms wrapped protectively around his waist. He woke early, too, usually around eight, always waking Will to the smell of breakfast wafting into their bedroom. 

Hannibal Lecter didn’t like to sleep because he had nightmares. Will would never admit it, or say a word of it, but he noticed. Hannibal squeezed tighter through the night, like he was hanging on for dear life. He cried out Mischa’s name sometimes, slipping back into a tongue that Will didn’t understand. Sometimes he woke with dried tears on his cheeks, and Will noticed how he’d immediately race to wash his face, make sure that no one ever knew, or noticed. But Will always noticed. Will saw Hannibal for who he really was. 

They were small things. Small quirks. Small quirks that Will was quickly falling in love with. Small quirks that reminded him that Hannibal was not the monster that he had convinced himself he was for so long now. He had told himself for years now that Hannibal was a monster, told himself not to fall in love, not allowing himself to see the beauty in him, the gold smothered beneath all of the red. But those flecks of gold were beginning to shine through, and Will was, for the first time, truly and solely falling in love with Hannibal Lecter.

And Will was beginning to wonder if marriage was such a bad idea. 

When he came home with a simple black box tucked into his coat pocket, with a ring that he’d bought on an impulse hidden inside, Will decided that it wasn’t.

 

~~~~

 

There were so a lot of fireflies out that night, at twilight, when they headed out for an evening stroll. Hannibal had insisted that it was getting late, that they should just stay in, but Will wouldn’t have it, refused to take no for an answer. So, reluctantly, Hannibal followed him outside, and he was glad that he decided to. The forest had something of a whimsical feeling to it at twilight, as the the spring turned to summer. 

They had been together from late in the summer, through autumn, all through the winter, through spring, now back into summer again. It was beginning to come full circle, and Will, despite the troubles and struggles that came with their relationship, had walked by his side all through the year. 

Hannibal had his doubts and his fears for a long time. He feared that Will would leave, that he would wake up one morning and Will would be gone without a trace. After all that he had done to Will, all of the pain that they had caused each other, Will would have every right to walk out, to decide that this wasn’t worth it. And then there was the issue of sex, and Hannibal had been terrified that he wouldn’t want to wait, and he wouldn’t want to get married, and it would eventually become too much. But it had nearly been a year, and yet, here he still stood, by his side, fingers laced tightly together, facing the world together. 

The year had been quiet. Peaceful, for once, the two of them living domestically together. Domesticity had never suited Hannibal before then, never caring for a life with anyone but himself, always comfortable with his life alone. But Will gave him a good life, the two of them falling in together, creating this lovely little domestic life together in a cabin in the woods with three dogs in the yard. There was a lot of kissing, a lot of cuddling, the two of them creating this perfect little life together, clinging tight to each other. 

There was no sex, Will having been completely and entirely respectful of him and his wishes, a perfect gentleman. Hannibal had nearly caved on a few occasions. Once, he’d slipped into the bedroom dressed in lacy red lingerie that he had eyed at the store and bought on a whim, intending on saving it for when they were married. He’d been drunk and horny, and Will would have had every right to take advantage, but instead, he’d changed him back into his usual pajamas and took him back to bed. Another time, they’d been kissing in bed, and things had started growing hot and heavy. Hannibal had been just a bit tipsy and just a bit horny, and Hannibal had slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of Will’s pants, but he had pulled away, assured him that it would all be okay, that he just needed to go to bed. Will had always been supportive, no matter how hard or frustrating it may have been. 

He really was husband material.

“This way.” Will instructed, taking Hannibal’s hand in his own, hurriedly guiding him down a well-worn path, one that they traveled down a lot. An old favorite path, one that led down to the river bank where Will liked to fish and Hannibal liked to watch. There was a rickety old bridge that stood over the stream, one that Will had spent much of early spring fixing up so that they could sit on it and fish together. As much as Will liked to be engulfed by the water, the rushing stream wrapping around him and threatening to take him with it, he knew that Hannibal wasn’t overly fond of feeling fish brushing against his legs, or the cold, so he’d fixed up the little wooden bridge for the two of them. 

Hannibal obediently followed as the night began to grow lighter. The sky was dark now, but there was warm light surrounding them here on earth. There were candles, lining the pathway across their bridge. Warm, white, twinkling lights hung threaded through the trees. Glass jars hung from branches, filled with flickering light. It was as though all of the stars from the heavens had descended around them and wrapped them in this ethereal light, the two of them walking in this stunning summer’s wonderland. 

“Will…” He began quietly. He hadn’t expected this, but he knew what was coming now, and his heart was hammering in his chest, head spinning somewhere in the clouds. Every part of him stood mesmerized, with the wide-eyed awe of a child. Will’s hands were locked around his own, eyes locked with Hannibal’s as he led the way back toward the bridge - _their_ bridge - bringing the two of them to the center of it all, the center of this fairytale wonderland. 

Hannibal felt on the brink of tears as Will pulled him close, running a hand through his gray strands, touching him gently, tenderly. One word kept running through Hannibal’s head, racing around the bone arena of his skull, overpowering every other thought in his mind. One word. _Yes. Yes. Yes._

Will pulled away slightly, forehead pressed against his, noses touching slightly, fingers interlaced. Hannibal felt tears beginning to spring into his eyes, chewing lightly at his lip as he bit back them back. 

“Hannibal Lecter… Through fire and flame, we've come. We’re conjoined, you and me. I don’t want to live my life without you. I couldn't if I tried. You and me, standing here, growing old together. No more fighting, no more hurting each other, just you and me. Until death do us part. I’ve been yours from the day that I met you. And now… Now, I want to make you mine.” Will murmured, tracing circles into his hands. 

Will slowly pulled away from the doctor, his touch sorely missed, but Hannibal knew that better things were coming. Tears sprung up into his eyes as Will pulled a little black box from his jacket pocket and took a step back, kneeling down on one knee, revealing a simple silver band with a small ruby embedded in it. Tears began to flow freely, the older man unable to hold them back any longer. All that he had ever dreamed of, everything that he had waited for for so long.

“Hannibal Lecter… Will you marry me?”


	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal had wanted to have something simple, just swing by the courthouse and get married, elope, but Will had insisted on a proper ceremony. No way in hell was Will Graham going to wait a year to propose, spend three weeks building this grand little wonderland for the perfect proposal, only to get married in a courthouse. Hannibal, impatient as he was growing, found himself quite pleased with the gesture. 

Hannibal had friends in businesses as notorious as his own, friends who could perform a wedding for the two of them so that they could marry under their real names, even if only ceremonially. They’d have a proper ceremony, however short the guest list, and they’d come back home. There was no need for a honeymoon when their own four walls were already paradise. (Though, Hannibal had convinced him to take him on a proper honeymoon for their year anniversary - he wanted to travel, but he didn’t want to lose his virginity in anywhere other than their own bed.) 

It took about two months of planning - not too bad as far as weddings go, most of it thanks to their mutual agreement on something simple, but every second that passed not being married to Will felt like an eternity. Every second ticking by made him want it more, want to say their vows, seal it with a kiss and just a little more. Hannibal had waited years for this, but in the two months of wedding planning, he began growing achingly impatient, to the point where it hurt. 

Though that pain did seem to fade away whenever he was standing next to Will. Whenever their fingers were locked tightly as they arranged things for the ceremony, whenever they abandoned the safety of their cabin and ventured out into the world, clinging to each other for strength. Whenever they sat down in the evenings, finally taking a moment to just sit and breathe and _be,_ and Hannibal leaned on Will’s shoulder as they watched the TV and the older man began to doze off under Will’s arm. Whenever they were alone, and all was calm, the pain seemed to dissipate into nothingness. Because there was Will, and that was enough. 

But even if Will’s presence beside him soothed his aching nerves and his anxious heart, the day couldn’t come fast enough. They marked the date of August 29th, the exact anniversary of the death of Francis Dolarhyde, the exact anniversary of Will’s becoming, the exact anniversary their consummation. It only seemed fitting to be married on a date that harbored such significance. But _damn_ if it didn’t take a long time to get here. 

But finally, as the summer slowly began to inch into autumn, the day came. 

Hannibal struggled with his tie, retying it for the third time. He wore a simple white tuxedo - he supposed it fitting, that symbol of purity and all, especially since he didn't think he would feel particularly at home in a wedding dress. Not that he was one for gender roles, but suits were comfortable, what he knew, what he’d worn nearly every day for years. Of course, he didn’t wear them as often these days, not seeing the point if they were within their own four walls with no one to impress, but they were still something that he knew. Though, right now, he felt like a stranger within this cotton cage. 

He was too hot. Sweat was beading at his hairline, and pooling damp in his palms. He bounced on the balls of his feet as he struggled with his tie, eyes threatening to well with tears from the stress of it all. His heart was racing so fast that it hurt, and he halfway feared that his heart may give out then and there. Cardiac arrest, killing him almost instantly, leaving Will to find him dead on their wedding day, all because of a tie that he couldn't seem to get right. 

He tore it off, chucking it into the floor and reaching up, hands curling tight around the edges of the golden frame of the mirror. His knuckles strained white and his face was turning red and he couldn't breathe, suffocating, drowning. His chest heaved harshly, breaths coming out labored and anxious. He had never been so anxious in his life, not for anything. He had always been calm and collected, had always been good at this, but now, now, it was like he was having a nuclear meltdown, and his brain was fried. 

He wanted this. He had wanted this for so long. But every horrible possible outcome rolled through his brain as he stood doubled over on weak knees. What if Will got cold feet, or changed his mind? What if he walked down the aisle to find no one standing to greet him? What if the wait wasn't worth it, and Will decided that Hannibal wasn't worth it anymore, not someone so inexperienced? What if it hurt, or what if the entire sensation of sex was overrated and they were both underwhelmed? What if it was underrated and it left Hannibal so overwhelmed that he couldn't take it? What if this ended poorly, and they ended where they were always meant to end - in a pool of blood, bleeding and broken and hurting each other again and again and again? 

There was a knock on the heavy wooden door, and the twist of a knob as they pushed it open. 

“Han? You goo-” Will began as he crept slowly inside, only to tear the older man almost violently away from the mirror, pushing the door closed again. He couldn't risk this too, not on top of all of his other anxieties. Not on top of everything else. It was superstition, nothing more, but Hannibal was unwilling to risk anything. 

“Bad luck to see the bride on the wedding day.” Hannibal called through the door, back pressed hard against the oak. 

“Well lucky for you, we’re gay. No bride. Let me in.” Will called back, voice muffled through the door. 

“The tradition stands, William. You can't see me, and I can't see you. Not until we walk down the aisle.” Hannibal protested, refusing to budge. Perhaps he did want to see his very, very soon-to-be husband, perhaps those blue eyes would calm him down, but he wanted to stick to tradition.

“Fine, fine, I’m not coming in. Can you at least tell me how you are? You sound stressed, are you stressed?” The younger man queried, nerves plain in his voice. 

He felt his eyes beginning to water as he choked down tears. It was stupid, positively ridiculous, but he couldn’t hold himself together any longer. He didn't know stress well enough to deal with it, and he felt overwhelmed, overcome, like the waves were crashing over him and he had to hope for escaping them. “Yes.” He squeaked out a confession. 

“Are you… Are you having second thoughts?” Will inquired softly. His voice sounded shaky and broken, a certain sense of terror in the vibrations of his vocal chords. Horrified of what the answer could be, what it might be. Hannibal felt a pang of sorrow at the pitiful noise, wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms and reassure him that it was okay. Repeat those three words until they were ingrained in his eardrums and he was never able to forget them, or doubt their validity. 

“Never, no, of course not. It's this… This bowtie, I'm not good with bowties, and I can't seem to put it on straight. It's like I've never worn a suit and I don't know what's wrong with me.” Hannibal rambled, voice shaking. “I don't like bowties, Will.” 

He heard a small chuckle come from the other side of the door. Hannibal gulped, face flushing hot as he stood there, embarrassed at his own incapability. He should be able to do this, should know what he was doing - and if today were any other day, he would have been fine. He didn't like bowties, but he knew how to tie them. He knew what he was doing. But today, his hands trembled and he couldn't keep his focus on anything other than his anxieties, and his excitements, and the memory of Will’s blue eyes staring up at him. 

“If I close my eyes, can I come in there and tie it for you?” Will inquired with a quiet laugh. 

“I think I am more capable with shaking hands than you are with blind eyes.” Hannibal teased with a laugh as he stepped away from the door, leaning down next to the mirror where the bowtie lay discarded. 

“Maybe. But it's an excuse to be near you, so let me give it a shot.” Will teased. 

Hannibal smiled to himself, holding the bowtie close to his chest. He wasn't quite sure what it was meant to represent, if anything, but it almost felt as though he was holding something precious. Clutching his treasure close to his chest. Clutching all that he had so tightly, just one last time before letting go. Giving himself to the man that he loved in the simplest of ways. He chewed down slightly on his lip before turning back toward the door. 

“Eyes closed?” He called through the door. 

“Affirmative, captain.” Will replied. 

Inhaling sharply, Hannibal closed his eyes in return before reaching toward the knob and pulling it open, removing the barrier between them. Their only barriers were their eyelids, but Hannibal could appreciate the rest of him. He smelled sharp, like pine and aftershave - a better one, the scent not nearly as atrocious as it had been when they'd met. There was normally a fine layer of grit ingrained in Will’s skin, and this permanent smell of earth, but it had been scrubbed clean for a day as special as this. Though Hannibal couldn't say that he didn't mourn the loss of that earthy scent. But, knowing Will, it would be back within the next few days. 

“Reach out your hand, lemme find you.” Will said, and Hannibal obeyed, holding out his hand for Will to take. Hannibal could hear, sense him moving, fishing through the air for an anchor until his fingertips grazed over the older man’s. 

“There you are.” He murmured, and Hannibal could hear the smile in his voice. Warm and bright in a way that enveloped you, took you hostage in its beauty. 

“Hi.” Hannibal chuckled quietly, fingers lacing tightly through Will’s. 

“Hi.” He replied, voice warm and full of light. Hannibal could feel the warmth of him radiating through him, feeling the light that shone through his soul. Will was no longer the angry, or terrified, or broken man that he had been when they met. He was at peace, only moments away from marrying a monster, a beast by his own accord. He was strong, fearless, strong enough to slay the dragon, no longer fearing the darkest corners of his imagination, rather embracing it. He was no longer broken. He was whole again. They both were. 

“Here, where's your bowtie?” Will inquired. 

Hannibal reached up, slipping the silk between their locked hands, disregarding the fact that he was wrinkling it. None of that seemed to matter with Will here. Nothing mattered but Will Graham. He was his peace and his joy and his unadulterated love. Will was his everything. And at the very brush of his skin, the older man was at peace. 

“Alright, show me where your neck is.” Will laughed. Hannibal smiled as Will held the tie stretched between two hands. His hand curled around the silk, guiding it behind his head and pulling it down beneath his collar, around his neck, adjusting the tie so that Will could tie it for him. 

“Are you excited?” Will inquired. 

“That's one word for it.” Hannibal chuckled. Excitement, anxiety, what was the difference, really?

“It'll be okay. I'm not going anywhere. No matter what happens today, or the next, or the next, until eternity. You’re not getting away from me so easy.” Will assured. 

Hannibal smiled and fought the urge to open his eyes, pull him close and claim his lips, hold him close. Instead, he just inched closer, ever so slightly, feeling Will fumbling with the bowtie. He knew that Will wasn't going to be able to tie it any better than he could, but he decided to let him try anyways. 

“Do you have your vows written?” Hannibal inquired quietly, curious. 

“I do. Do you?” Will inquired with a quiet laugh. He already knew the answer. Hannibal had written the first draft two days after getting engaged, and it had been roughly seventy pages by the time he was done with it. Will had convinced him to cut it down, but he was pretty sure that he hadn't gotten it down past ten. 

“I do. Memorized.” Hannibal chuckled. He began to slip into his memory palace, standing by the man he loved at the altar where they would be wed in mere minutes. Will standing in front of him, hair parted nearly, in a plain black tuxedo. Simple. Classy. Like him. 

“Why don't you practice em on me? Or is there some bad luck with that, too?” 

Hannibal smiled. He supposed he should wait until the actual ceremony, make it mean all that much more. But standing here, blind to each other yet somehow entirely open to one another, it felt like this was where they were meant to be. Where these sacred vow were meant to be uttered, where the words that he had written down a month ago were finally meant to come to light, meant to be whispered. Not for anyone else to hear. Just Hannibal, and Will, and no one else. 

“If you insist.” 

Hannibal gave a small smile, the words running around in his head, reciting for the ten thousandth time today. He wanted to reach over, take his hands, stare deep into his eyes, but he decided not to, keeping steady on his tradition, with closed eyes and Will’s hands resting on his neck. 

“The first day that I met you, I noticed that you dislike eye contact. If I were to psychoanalyze you, my diagnosis would be high functioning autism, which severely impairs one's ability to make eye contact. When I first met you, you hardly looked at me, barely made eye contact at all. Only once, to make a point about how distracting eyes can be. I noticed, however, as we became more polite with one another, you began to keep your eyes trained on my forehead. Enough to fool the untrained eye, but not enough to fool me.” Hannibal began, reminiscing on days before domesticity had become something so common for them, before pain and betrayal, when they were little more than acquaintances. Hannibal had found himself infatuated by him from the beginning, saw something of himself in Will, but never could have imagined where it would lead him. Where it would lead both of them. 

“As the days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months, as something of a friendship formed between us, you learned to look me in the eye. As I observed you, I noticed that there was no one else whose eyes you would meet in the simplest gestures of vulnerability. It was as though it only came natural with those closest to you - or, more specifically, me.” He mused. Will’s fingers were slowing down, listening to him rather than trying to tie the bowtie. 

“Slowly, I came to realize that there was a bond between us. It terrified me, knowing that there was something in me that could still feel something… Feelings I thought to be burned away and charred into oblivion now reignited and rekindled for the first time. I fell in love with you, Will Graham. And now, I stand here a changed man. A man who sought to destroy with fire and blood, a man with a heart made of stone, standing here all in white for you. A changed man, a better man.” He murmured, his tongue rolled over his lower lip, leaning into Will’s touch.

“So here I stand, in a place where I never imagined I would ever stand, making vows I never imagined I would utter. So these are my vows to you. I vow to stand at your side, rather than standing opposed. I vow to hold your hands in mine, through the good times and through the bad times, to never turn my back on you, to never be the one to plunge the knife ever again. I vow to be your healer, your physician, rather than to be the one to hurt you. I vow to cherish forgiveness over betrayal, to cherish love over hate, to cherish the feelings that have for so long frightened me to my core. I vow to cherish you above all. Because William Michael Graham… I have never loved anyone as much as I love you, and I never will.” 

Hannibal’s eyes were watering as he spoke, tears spilling from beneath his lashes. He was never so emotional, never like this, but something came over him, something softening him. Knowing that the man that he loved so much, the man that he had loved for so many years, finally loved him back, was finally marrying him, the two of them making their vows to one another. 

“Shh… Are you crying? You sound like you’re crying.” Will inquired, tears forming in his own eyes. Hannibal’s words were swirling around in his head, feelings and thoughts that had been shared between them finally forming words for the first time, filling the air around them. Will wanted to open his eyes, throw his arms around the older man and hold him tight. 

“Just a bit.” Hannibal chuckled, sniffling as he struggled to pull himself back together. 

“That’s… It’s beautiful, Han.” He whispered. He was fighting back sobs, looking back on where this road had led them. To think that running down the driveway of the Hobbs residence in hopes of stopping a serial killer would start the road that led down a church aisle. To think that all of the pain that they had suffered would end here. Or perhaps this was no end. Perhaps this was just a beginning. A beginning of another chapter. A better chapter. A better story. 

Hannibal smiled, chewing on his lip. “Can I… Could I hear yours?” He inquired quietly. “It's only fair.”

Will, with a small smile, leaned forward and pressed his forehead into the crook of the older man’s neck, inhaling him in as his hands drifted down over his chest, wrapping around his waist, finished with his bowtie. He just wanted to stand next to him, just for a moment, just feel his arms wrapped around him before they walked down the aisle to repeat these vows. 

“I am yours, in mind and soul and body. Once upon a time, my job was to get into the heads of people, but for the first time, you were able to get into mine, understand me better than I understand myself. Our souls are intertwined, the two of us far away from the rest of the world, conjoined at the soul as gods among men. My flesh is covered in scars, scars that you have given me, scars that I wear proudly. Because you were the one to put them there. And it simply shows how far we’ve come.” He murmured, slowly reaching up and pressing a small kiss against his neck. His fingers drifted down over his arms, touching his wrists, feeling as the scars that littered Hannibal’s body because of him. The two of them had scarred each other, left each other bruised and battered, and yet somehow, it was all undoubtedly and undeniably worth it. “We’ve come so far.” He whispered. 

“I vow my faithfulness, my honesty, all my heart and all my soul and all my strength. I vow to stay, to never run away again. I vow to be your lover and your friend, there through the good, and the bad. I vow to build you up rather than tear you down. I vow to stand at your side and build something beautiful out of this broken world rather than reduce it to dust, the two of us gods among men. You and I, destined to start and finish wars. We're overdue asteroids, you and I. We’re what killed the dinosaurs, because the new world needed room for me and you. And for you, I vow to face this brave new world by your side.” Will murmured.

“Forever and ever.” Hannibal murmured, his hands squeezed tight around Will’s, lip trembling as he did. 

“Through good and bad.”

“Rich and poor.”

“Sickness and health.”

“Til death do us part.”

Blue eyes met his, staring up at him with wide-eyed awe. Hannibal’s lip quivered, hands gripping tightly to Will’s, his eyes wet with tears, yet it didn't seem to matter. He'd promised not to look until the wedding, and while the ceremony didn't start for another half hour, they were already married. No witness, no legalities, just the two of them. Just as it should be. Just as it always had been. 

“My bowtie is still crooked.” Was all that Hannibal was able to sputter out. 

“Oh, shut up.” Will laughed, pulling him into a kiss. 

 

~~~~

 

Will had tried to carry him bridal style across the threshold, but Hannibal would have none of it. He'd always been a man of tradition, but decided that being carried like a bride would be something of a blow to his dignity, no matter how silly a gesture. Instead, he insisted just as Will had before the wedding. They were gay. There was no bride between them, no bride to be carried across the threshold. 

Of course, Will retorted with the same line that Hannibal had used. The tradition still stands.

They came to a compromise, and Hannibal finally agreed to let Will carry him from the doorway of their bedroom to the bed. The bed they would share as husband and husband for the first time. The bed they had shared for a year now, tangled in each other, rising and falling next to each other, sharing late night conversations and sleepy Sunday mornings. The bed where Will Graham would lay him out, take him and touch him for the very first time. The bed where, after 47 years, Hannibal Lecter would at last lose his virginity. 

Will would carry him from the doorway. The doorway where he stood frozen.

He'd waited years for this day, and as it arrived, anxiety pulsed through him, anxiety like he'd never felt before. He'd come to terms with the fact that he would undoubtedly be the most inexperienced of any of Will’s lovers. Even when Will lost his own virginity, he had known what he liked, and how he liked it, at least to some extent. Hannibal didn't even know that much. He would be eternally grateful for every touch and pleasure that Will had to offer him, but what was to determine what he preferred? Beyond the anatomical sense, Hannibal didn't know his body in the slightest, and who was to say that he would even enjoy any of it? 

“Mr. Graham-Lecter…” Will sighed, walking back across the room to where Hannibal stood in the doorway. He’d lit candles, left white rose petals on the red satin sheets this morning. He made sure everything was perfect, beautiful, relentlessly cheesy. With Molly, they’d gone to the courthouse, went out for a nice dinner, then went home, made love once Walter was safely tucked in his bed. He hadn’t gone all out like this, not seeing the need. Molly hadn't been a soul mate, if there even was such a thing. Every part of him belonged to Hannibal Lecter, and him alone. 

“It's all ready.” He murmured, reaching for his hand and pulling Hannibal close to him where he stood. The younger man could see the way his husband was eyeing the bed, could feel anxiety rolling off of him in a way that he had never sensed from him before. Hannibal was typically so calm, cool, collected, every single movement calculated. Sure, his guard had been dropped in the past year or so, allowing Will to see past the façade, but he had never seen him quite like this.

“William…” Hannibal breathed, voice coming out shaky.

“We don’t have to do this tonight, you know. You can take all the time that you need. We can wait.” Will assured, taking Hannibal’s hand in his own, sensing how nervous the older man was. He knew that they had both waited for moment for years now, but there was a certain amount of anxiety that always accompanied it. He didn’t want his husband’s first time to be anything less than enjoyable, anything less than perfect. 

“No.” Hannibal insisted, inhaling sharply. “I want this.” 

And he did. He did, oh he did. He wanted to feel every inch of Will’s body pressed against him, pressed into him, wanted to be part of him. He wanted their conjoinment to take the most physical form, rather than existing solely on the level of their souls. And he wanted it here, now, tonight. He wanted the tradition of losing your virginity on your wedding night. He wanted the symbolism, peeling the white, the purity away from him. He didn't want to wait any longer, wanted to sate his own long-held desires and lusts. He wanted Will. 

“Are you sure? We can just cuddle tonight or something, or we can just suck each other off or something. We don’t have to go all the way on the first night or anything. We don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do.” Will promised, meaning every word. Even if they just fell asleep in the same bed, as they had been doing for nearly a year now, that would be enough. It would be plenty. 

“I’m certain. I want this, Will.” The older man turned toward the younger, catching those blue eyes of his, the same eyes that always calmed him down. The same eyes that brought him peace, and happiness. Hannibal licked his lip, eyes scanning his face over slowly, reaching for his hands, holding him close. “I want you. I want all of you.” 

Will smiled softly, taking a step closer, lips brushing lightly over the doctor’s just as he had done a thousand times before. It all came so naturally now, every kiss and every brush of skin, pulled back and restrained from all that they could be, all that they could have. But now, tonight, there was no need for restraint. The cages and shackles that held them at arm’s length broke free, leaving them free to cling as tightly to each other as they wished. 

Hannibal sighed as Will pulled him close, fingers drifting down his body. Over his neck, down his chest, grazing his sides, the very touch making him dizzy, the world beginning to spin as his husband’s hand steadied behind his knees. He hoisted him up into his arms without much effort - he'd known that Will was strong, but he was stronger than he'd expected. Hannibal relaxed in his arms, letting out a sigh as he clung tighter to Will. The younger man’s lips pressed down his neck, holding tight to him, carrying him to their bed. 

Hannibal closed his eyes as Will laid him out on the bed, savoring the familiar feeling of satin sheets. Normally, they slept on cotton sheets, Will having always preferred them to the red silk that stretched across the mattress tonight. Hannibal felt at ease in the satin, though, reminding him of his childhood. Waking up early on Saturday mornings, running as fast as his wobbling legs would carry him, hop up into his parents’ bed, rolling in their silk sheets as they showered him with affection. 

Will straddled his husband's legs, leaning down to kiss him again. The older man melted into him, body relaxing as the kiss deepened, familiar, hardly so nerve-wracking as what was to come. Slowly, Will's fingers crept up his chest, working at the buttons of his clothes. He undid the jacket first, pushing it down over his shoulders, not bothering with pulling the rest of it off. Clothes would be shed eventually, and they'd be well and truly bare to each other for the first time. But they had all night. There was no rush tonight. 

“Dressed all in white for me.” Will whispered, untying the bowtie that never stayed quite straight and starting at the top button. His breath smelled like champagne and starlight, his dark curls brushing against his forehead, his pupils dilated. Will was well and truly a sight to behold, beautiful, even more so tonight, basking in the warmth of candlelight.

“I have always been one for symbolism. Metaphor. Tradition.” Hannibal mused quietly, stealing another kiss as his husband worked his way down, unbuttoning his white shirt, revealing his bare chest beneath. 

“White is meant to stand for purity. I hardly think that you, of all people, would be widely considered as pure.” Will teased, opening the rest of his shirt as he leaned down, suckling kisses into the older man's neck, leaving bruises lined down the column of his neck. 

“I have sinned, of course. But this is yours to take from me. Or perhaps yours to give to me. I brought you into a darker world, whispered through the chrysalis, taught you to embrace what you are and give into your darkest desires. Now it's your turn to do the same for me. Pull me from my chrysalis. Show me. Take what purities I've left and make me yours.” He whispered, eyes rolling back as each lick and suck of his neck sending a jolt through him. 

“Devil dressed in white. So light in one area, so dark in others. Like yin and yang.” Will murmured, nosing at the hair on his chest. He often slept there, clinging to the older man with his face resting on his chest, though they’d never come anywhere close to anything like this. 

“Perhaps even Lucifer preserved a few of his angelic tendencies.” Hannibal mused before his breath hitched sharply, not expecting the waves of pleasure that ran through him as Will’s mouth clamped down around a nipple, sucking hard as the older man squirmed beneath him. He'd never thought them so sensitive before, knowing that they could be but never understanding just how much. 

Will savored the way that he squirmed and writhed beneath him, pressing up against him, desperate for contact. Judging by the noises he made, he'd never experienced anything even similar, had never been touched in this way. Of course not. The reactions were more than what Will could have expected, though. Oh, he was going to enjoy this. He’d never deflowered anyone before, and there was a certain amount of pressure to make it the best experience of his life, but seeing Hannibal like this assured him that this was going to be good. 

Hannibal’s fingers threaded instinctively through his husband’s dark curls, eyes shut tight. His cock twitched, erection hardening between his thighs, and for the first time, no guilt was associated with the feeling. He could feel the cloth that constrained him growing damp with fluid streaming from the slit. He clenched his eyes shut hard, trembling with the overwhelming sensation of all of it. 

“More, Will.” Hannibal murmured, voice coming out shaky as he pressed himself up against him, desperate for the friction. The pleasure shocked through him, like electricity pulsing through him as he rutted against Will’s thigh. 

He was desperate, and horny, and needy, and hungry in ways that he had never been before. His life had been spent suppressing the hunger, ignoring even as it grew larger and larger, leaving him touch starved. Now, having just a taste of this, every graze of his fingers, every flick of his tongue, had Hannibal moaning and begging and needing more. Like a hole so neglected that he feared it may never be filled. Insatiable. 

Will smirked. To see Hannibal so desperate for him was a sight that he'd been fantasizing about for years, and the reality was more than anything that Will could have possibly imagined. He was beautiful in his agony and desperation, like every sensation was all too overwhelming for him to handle. A man who had suffered tremendous pain without a flinch was reduced to begging and pleading with just the smallest brush of pleasure. One of these days, the shock would wear off and Hannibal would be able to take him with poise and grace, as he did in all things, but now, he was little more than a squirming little virgin. 

Still, he opted not to torture him any longer, kissing down the plain of his chest, nosing at the graying hair that grew there. It was familiar, oftentimes being the last thing he felt against his skin at night, and the first thing he woke to in the morning. He kissed down the small curve of his belly, and through the downy line of hair that disappeared into his trousers. Slowly, Will reached up, slowly running a finger over the obvious bulge in his trousers before undoing the buckle of his belt. Just the brush of his finger was enough to draw a small moan from Hannibal’s lips, pulling a smile to Will’s. 

Hannibal’s eyes drifted shut, chewing on his lower lip, head pressed into the bed as he desperately tried to quiet the noises in his head. Surrendering his control to Will Graham was surely the most frightening part of all of this, having never surrendered his death grip on control in his life. But now, he was surrendering himself in mind and soul and body to the only man he had ever deemed worthy. 

Hannibal rolled his hips, the action coming easily, naturally, as Will tugged down his trousers, pulling them down and tossing them aside without much care. Hannibal could hear a little gasp from the younger man, drawing a small smirk to his lips, knowing that it would draw that reaction. He knew what Will liked, and there was something poetic about it. And Will, who had waited a year to see him like this… Hannibal wondered if he might die at the very sight of it. His cock, painfully hard and wet at the tip, trapped beneath white lace, had Will staring down at him in awe. 

“You… Son of a bitch.” Will breathed in shock, letting out a huff of disbelieving laughter. Hannibal glanced down at him, smug look on his face, looking rather pleased with himself for thinking of it. 

“Symbolic, I think.” Hannibal breathed. “All in white for you.” 

“Well, I do hope you weren't planning on keeping these, because they're gonna be pretty damn destroyed when I'm done with you.” Will tease before moving down, pressing his lips against the outline of his cock through the lace. He felt Hannibal buck hard beneath him, desperate for more friction, for more touch. Will pressed an arm across his waist, pushing him down into their marital bed, pinning him down as he continued to mouth through the lace. 

Pleasure like he had never known pulsed through him, warmth spreading through his cock, through his pelvis, into his belly. The very contact had him aching, threatening to spill at any moment. There was no way in hell that he was going to last long, but somehow, he got the feeling that that wasn't going to matter. 

He reached down, threading his fingers through Will’s dark curls, clinging to them like an anchor lest he float away. He let out a breathy moan as he licked a wet stripe up the underside of his cock through the white lace, only to let out a sharp cry as he reached the head of his cock. It was as if everything had been amplified, blood pounding through his veins at a hundred miles per hour. The sensation was intense, reducing him to a whimpering mess as Will sucked there torturously. 

He had never been one for surrender of control, but it didn't feel that way at all. It didn't feel like surrendering his control to Will, but rather a mutual surrender to each other, the two becoming one. He bucked into the younger man’s touch, feeling his balls drawing tightly to him as he threatened to spill, drawing dangerously close to his orgasm. 

It was new and shocking, the feeling. It was like standing on the cusp of glory, moments from taking the dive into sensations that he had never known. Will knew exactly how to bring him ever closer, breath hot and damp through the fabric as he sucked. Hannibal’s back arched hard as he did, the edges of his visions going white as his mind began to blur, everything fading into this one moment. 

It was all coming so fast, and he had no hope of staving it off. Most men his age had years of practice, getting better at making love, and not coming within mere minutes of starting. But Hannibal was inexperienced, and was left drawn to the brink of orgasm as soon as they'd begun, the moment Will’s mouth made contact. 

“I'm close. _Oh,_ I'm close.” Hannibal moaned as Will continued on, not giving him so much as a moment to catch his breath. His toes curled tightly and he could feel Will smile against him. And like that, it was all over. 

He had known orgasm only in a biological sense before this. Only from a scientific standpoint. Stimulation brought to climax, semen being released at the point of orgasm, in hopes of breeding a female and procreating. But this was different. This was blinding pleasure beyond anything that he had ever known before. It overwhelmed him, dragging him under as he cried out, eyes rolled back and back arched sharply as thick, white fluid soiled the lace. 

Still, Will didn't stop. His mind shorted out as he squirmed, the younger man sucking him clean, sending him spiraling into oversensitivity, crying out with every breath that he had in him. 

“You're gorgeous like this, Han.” Will murmured once he'd sucked him dry, swallowing it all and leaving Hannibal panting, flat against the bed as his chest heaved slightly. Will hovered over him, leaning to steal another kiss, leaving Hannibal to taste himself on his tongue. The taste on his lips, the smell of sex, it was intoxicating. He reached up slowly, thumb running over the line of his jaw, savoring the way it felt to be this close. 

He was sleepy and hazy and excited Will kissed him, slowly, deeply, with passion that he had never known. It wasn't like the fevered heat that had buzzed through them before, when they couldn't do this. It was calmer, more meaningful, as if he was putting all of his heart and mind and soul into him, into this moment. 

Slowly, he pulled from his lips, eyes meeting through the dim candlelight. Hannibal had always found comfort in those blue eyes, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever seen them look so full of purpose and adoration. He eased into his touch as he pushed a hand through his graying hair, making him feel young again. 

“Are you ready? Do you want to keep going? We can stop if you don’t, it's okay.” Will reassured, like he was afraid of going too far, like his comfort and pleasure was the most important thing in the world. 

Hannibal reached up, fingers running over each inch of his face, memorizing the way it felt to touch him like this, determined to ingrain this moment in the halls of his memory palace for the rest of time. 

“I'm ready, Will.” He vowed. 

The younger man flashed a small grin and claimed his lips again, only for a moment this time. He watched as Will reached over onto the nightstand, grabbing the bottle of lube that he'd bought the week before, knowing that they'd be needing it. He watched as he popped the cap open, pouring some over two digits. Hannibal gulped with anticipation, though any intimidation was eased as Will claimed his mouth again. He eased into the taste of sex and champagne, eyes drifting closed as he leaned into his husband, putting all of his faith and all of his trust into the man he'd promised his life to. 

Slowly, Will’s hand slipped between them, pushing his panties to the side as he pulled his legs forward with the other hand, leaving him open and exposed to him as he slowly began to circle his most private place with one finger. Hannibal let out a gasp at the contact, his finger massaging lightly at the rim. It was foreign, new, sending shocks through him as his cock began to harden again. 

“You've been opening yourself up, haven't you?” Will commented quietly as his finger slipped past his rim without resistance, slowly beginning to fuck him with just fingers, pushing in a little deeper each time. “Doesn't that count as masturbating?” He teased before adding a second finger. 

“Not if it's not intended for pleasure. Solely preparation. It doesn't count.” Hannibal chuckled. He felt no guilt in it, having spent the past few days working himself open. He hadn't come from his fingers, had been careful to avoid the very brush of his prostate, careful to keep pleasure out of the equation, saving it for now. For here. “Curl your fingers and rub. I want to know what it feels like when you touch my prostate.” Hannibal instructed. 

Will obeyed, studying the older man’s face as he did so, fingers massaging insistently against the hardened nub inside of him. Hannibal let out a breathless cry, back arching sharply as he rocked against him. His face screwed up in his pleasure, the feeling all too overwhelming, washing through him like a tidal wave, like a hurricane. 

He moaned loudly, obscenely with each thrust of his fingers, with each brush of his fingers, with each added digit, Will slowly working him open. The wait was agonizing, needing more than fingers, needing consummation. His cock was solid between his legs, dripping into soiled lace. He moaned, back arched as he rocked into his touch, struggling for more. 

“Good?” Will teased. He remembered being 14 and touching himself for the first time, shocked at the sensations, coming at least three times that night, unable to keep his hands away from his cock, finally learning how good it could make him feel. How much stronger must it be after 47 years?

 _“Please.”_ Hannibal begged in response, that being the only word that he could manage to get out, everything else lost to the hurricane in his mind and in his soul and in his body, leaving him wrecked beneath three digits. 

“You ready?” Will inquired, slowly pulling his fingers from his twitching hole. 

“I'm ready. _Please,_ Will, I beg of you.” He pleaded, desperate to feel the slide of his cock inside of him, desperate to feel him finish deep inside of his body, desperate for the physical conjoinment. 

Will nodded and gave a small smile, quickly kicking off the rest of his clothes and positioning himself between his legs. There was something more intimate about this than anything that has come before, something so quiet and needing, this pull between them, drawing them closer together. Closer and ever closer as Will pushed the lace to the side and lined himself up with Hannibal’s dripping hole. 

And he pushed. 

Hannibal let out a soft gasp, nothing like the loud, unrestrained noises he had made before. It wasn't the shock of the sensation or the pleasure, but the final conjoinment between them that drew the noise from his lips. He felt full, and together, like nothing that he had known before. Like some part of him had been missing before this, like this was how he was meant to be. Beneath Will, the glide of his cock settling into the hilt, the two of them beginning to blur, no definitive beginning or end. The two of them becoming one. 

It was cliche and pitiful when he began to cry. 

Still, the tears welled in his eyes as he clung to Will with all that was in him. Legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck, face buried in the crook of his neck. He trembled at the feeling of fullness between his legs, the feeling of Will inside of him, the knowledge that this was the leap he had been waiting to take for ages now. He let out a quiet sob into his chest, tears flowing freely at the realization. 

“Am I hurting you, are you alright?” Will asked frantically. 

Hannibal shook his head, unable to form words. He trembled and shook, clinging hard to the man that he loved so much, feet locking behind his back, keeping him deep inside. He didn't want him to move, didn't want this moment to end, the moment when two became one. He wanted to keep him there, never to let him go. 

“What's wrong?” Will inquired, slowly pulling away, eyes locking in the low light. Tears glistened in his dark eyes as he stared up at Will, basking in the glory of him. Sparkling blue eyes with worry and affection in them. The light danced across his face, basking in the warm glow of him, the beauty of him drawing tears to his eyes, flowing more freely, steadily streaming onto the pillow beneath him. 

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” He whispered, hand reaching up and cupping the sides of his face. 

Will smiled down at him before claiming his lips, gentle and warm as he began to move inside of him. The slide of his cock, the give of his body as it began to accept Will’s inside of him. The earth began to shift and sway beneath him as he moved, each pointed thrust pressing insistently against his prostate. It was overwhelming and foreign and new, driving him to the brink of tears and the brink of orgasm. 

He was so beautiful, Hannibal was. Moaning and crying tears of pure joy. Perhaps they deserved it. Happiness, contentment, ease, joy beyond anything else that they had ever known. That was what had been given to them with the exchanging of vows and the exchanging of rings. No boundaries, no borders, just pure and unadulterated joy and conjoinment. Will thrust into his tight, damp warmth and struggled not to become the same weeping mess as Hannibal. After all this time, this is what it had all been leading up to. 

_“Aš tave myliu,_ Hannibal.” Will whispered. He'd learned it after hearing it nearly every day for the past year, Hannibal constantly murmuring it. In the haze of darkness as they drifted to sleep, before they parted for any length of time, when hanging up the phone. Will had never said it himself, but it seemed appropriate. 

And it was. The sound of his native tongue tumbling from Will’s lips as he confessed his love for the thousandth time that day had him weeping as he clung tighter to his husband. He let out a quivering moan as he thrust, trying to find the words, trying to string them together into something coherent, though nothing came in English. It was as if he had reverted to his younger self, sent to some place more vulnerable, more naive, before the atrocities of man had been accepted into his veins. Living in a simplified world of husband and husband, no one existing beyond their house on a hill. 

_“Mano vyras. Mano meilė, mano gyvenimas, mano šviesa. Visa tai aš tikiu, yra tavo. Jūs turite mano saldus atsidavimo.”_ He murmured through blurry eyes and breathy moans. 

Will couldn't understand a word, but it all made sense. A vow, a promise, a devotion, a surrender. He buried his face into the crook of his neck, thrusting in harder, faster, more purposefully, bringing them both closer to completion. Hannibal’s quiet whimpers and moans, Will’s groans and growls, the wet sound of skin on skin filling the room. 

Will could feel his balls starting to draw up, and he knew that neither of them were going to last much longer. How could they, each movement so intense, so overwhelming, crashing over them like tidal waves. The emotions were stronger than they had ever been before, and Will felt like he was losing his own virginity all over again, touched for the first time. Because it was the first time that had ever mattered, and perhaps that was what counted. 

“Come for me. I wanna feel you come around my cock.” Will whispered, debauched in his efforts to stave off his orgasm for only a moment later. 

Hannibal didn't need coaxing. The moment his hot breath hit his ear, he was a goner, orgasm washing over him again. He came harder this time, harder than he thought possible. He soiled his underwear all over again, wet and hot between them, the fluid spraying hard between them. Hannibal moaned, clawing down his back, eyes clenched shut as his body began to contract around Will’s. 

Will’s orgasm followed just after, the contractions of Hannibal’s body pushing him over. He let out a cry as he came deep inside of him, filling him with his seed, the warmth spreading through his belly. His cock throbbed hard inside of him, entire body pounding with his heartbeat as they came back down, trembling and shaking as they lay intertwined. 

It wasn't until Hannibal stopped crying and Will’s cock had softened inside of him that they at last pulled apart. The white lace was stained with semen, both from his own cock and what came spilling from his hole. They were fevered, skin hot and slick with sweat, sprawled against satin sheets as the candlelight began to flicker out. 

“I love you.” Hannibal breathed. “Til death do us part.”

Will reached down, lacing his fingers through the older man’s and drawing his hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss into the gold band that now rested on his left hand, heavy and new, though it felt as though it had been there for years. “Til death do us part.”


End file.
